A Kiss And Some Poetry
by Ressick
Summary: Arizona is a teenage pickpocket. Callie is her target. ONESHOT


**For A Kiss And Some Poetry**

A/N: Title is from the Indigo Girls song "Gone Again." Some dialogue and situations are borrowed/paralleled from the show.

X-X-X-X

**July 1990, Miami FL **

So far, Arizona Robbins liked Miami. It was warm year-round, a nice change from the last city she and Tim had tried out. It had plenty of places for two teens to hide and sleep – run-down and forgotten older homes on the outskirts of South Miami were perfect for two teens to live in unnoticed. It was by the ocean, close enough to easily bike to the beach, which she appreciated. Beaches meant pretty girls in bikinis. And if you went to the right beaches, it meant _rich_ pretty girls in bikinis.

Between herself and her brother, they could charm their way under just about any girl's top – and into purses full of cash and daddy's credit cards. Which helped supplement the income Tim got working under the table as a busboy for a restaurant not too far from their squat. Arizona – who looked younger than her brother despite being a full five minutes older – couldn't manage to find anyone willing to overlook her lack of working papers. Sixteen years old and on their own for a year now, the Robbins twins had adjusted to taking care of themselves. After having left their parents' home the night before Arizona was to be sent to a de-gaying camp – Tim had to pick the padlock on her bedroom door – they'd made their way slowly south, a mixture of soup kitchens, shoplifting, and pickpocketing keeping them fed.

Yes, Miami was so far good to them. No one seemed to connect them to the stolen wallets, they had enough food, a temporary roof over their heads, and enough cash to not only replace some of their worn-out clothes but fund a quick getaway if they needed it. And they finally had a _plan_. In a year and a quarter they'd be eighteen. Old enough to be out from under the legal thumb of their father. Then they'd apply to a JobCorps, getting their GEDs as quickly as possible and the vocational training (Tim – auto repair, Arizona – medical office assistant) that would let them make an above-board living for a few years while they waited to reach twenty-four, when they would no longer be considered financially dependent on their parents and therefore able to apply for a lot more financial aid. Tim would work full-time while Arizona concentrated on college. Then she'd go to medical school. Once she was out of her residency, she'd be able to contribute to Tim's long-term goal of running his own business.

But without surviving the present, planning for the future wouldn't do much good. Arizona locked her (stolen) bicycle to the rack at the edge of the beach parking lot, shedding her denim vest and then tucked it carefully into her beach bag – an oversized tote she'd lifted months earlier, complete with two beach towels, the highest SPF sunscreen she could steal, and a bottle of water. Then, as she resettled her sunglasses, she started to hunt.

Despite not being terribly into fashion, it paid off to know the trendiest styles of the season. Whomever could afford to have the latest swimsuit, bag, or shades would likely have more cash on them, and be less apt to notice it was missing. She was a horny teenager, so she looked for pretty girls. Finally, she looked for the girls who were – subtly or not – checking out the other pretty girls on the beach. Even if they didn't realize they were. Arizona was more than willing to spur a pretty girl's sexuality crisis.

Strolling along the beach for awhile was a good way to center herself for what was to come. Which was to be charming. To flirt, subtly or overtly depending on the girl. To, if she was lucky, kiss a pretty girl. And then rob her. She probably should have felt some guilt, but if it was a choice between the frankly excessive amounts of spending cash some girl brought to the beach or letting herself starve, she was going to choose survival. She was her own Robin Hood, stealing from the rich to feed the poor. Besides, life wasn't fair and if Suzie Richgirl had to settle for the slightly less expensive pair of Jimmy Choos that month, Arizona wasn't going to cry over it.

She adjusted her suit for maximum cleavage as a girl caught her eye. Tall, gorgeous, wearing a bikini straight out of the latest Cosmo. Curves to die for and sun-drenched skin. Arizona's mouth watered. And, to cap off the perfect image, the girl was striding elegantly out of the surf, droplets of water running towards the earth. Face bare, it was easy to watch as the girl's eyes tracked several pretty young women jogging along the water's edge towards a volleyball game a few hundred feet away. Arizona was momentarily distracted by the jiggling chests until Bikini Girl shook her head, damp curly hair flying in every direction.

That. That girl. Oh, Arizona was going to enjoy the day. She sauntered towards the girl, who by the time she arrived was halfway through slathering sunscreen on herself, rubbing her shoulders and cleavage meticulously. Arizona stopped a few feet to the front and right of the girl's towel, crossing her line of vision in the process. Spreading out her own towel, Arizona set down her bag and stretched, purposefully giving quite a show. Settling onto the towel, she dug around in the bag and pulled out her sunscreen. She spread it carefully over her chest, shoulders, and legs. Her multicolored neon bikini was small, and there were sections of her back that were difficult to reach without imitating a contortionist. She turned, meeting the wide, lustful eyes of her target.

"Hey, could you help me? I can't reach my back."

She watched as the other girl visibly re-started her train of thought. Internally, Arizona grinned. Hook. Line. The other girl shook herself slightly and smiled shyly, rising from her towel. "Sure." As the girl took the sunscreen bottle from her, Arizona smirked towards the ocean when she heard the cap pop and the bottle make that farty noise as sunscreen was squeezed out. Sinker.

The girl's touch was gentle, hesitant, yet thorough. Arizona wanted to moan; it felt like heaven to have this beautiful girl's hands on her body. But she had a goal. "I'm Erin, by the way," she said in a perfectly normal tone of voice, as if she asked strangers to cover her in sunscreen every day of the week.

"Callie. Nice to meet you," was the reply as her hand drifted between Arizona's shoulderblades. She leaned back into the contact.

"So, Callie, do you come here often? I just moved to town myself, and I love this beach," Arizona said a moment later as Callie's hand began sliding under the edge of her top while coated in sunscreen.

A cough came from behind her as Callie hummed before answering, "It's not my favorite, but it is one of the best. A little crowded, but I like to people-watch. And the snackbar isn't bad."

"I thought I saw a food cart too," Arizona ventured unsurely, as if she hadn't cased the entire extended stretch of beach months ago. She could almost feel the girl behind her shrug.

"It's not bad. Or, really, very good. The cafetería a couple blocks away makes better papa rellena by far."

"Mmmm I'll have to try it. If it's as good as you say."

Callie finished her extended session of sunscreen application and moved to hand the bottle back to Arizona. "It is. Better, really. My abuela's are the best, but y'know."

Arizona could barely remember either of her grandmothers let alone their cooking, but she wasn't about to tell that to her mark. Instead she grinned widely, her dimples making Callie redden. As Callie pulled back from where she'd been applying sunscreen, Arizona patted the spot of towel next to her. Callie's blush deepened as she settled down, the two girls' thighs touching they were so close. Arizona leaned into Callie slightly, twisting around so she could put the sunscreen bottle back into her bag. She felt Callie's breath hitch against her back and grinned to herself.

The afternoon seemed to pass too quickly for Arizona, a mix of flirtatious conversation and quick dips in the crowded water. Callie was smart, funny, self-depreciating in a completely charming way. And gorgeous. If the world were different, she'd be all for multiple dates with this girl. But the world was the world.

"Hey, I need to go to the bathroom. Can you watch my bag?" Callie asked innocently, needing to pee.

Arizona swallowed. "Yeah, sure, of course." Her smile was wide – only her brother would be able to see how fake it was.

Callie grinned and jumped up, doing a little dance before she started to quickly walk towards the public restrooms. Arizona waited for a few moments then started rummaging through Callie's bag for inventory purposes (wallet, keys, a very fancy camera, sunscreen, makeup bits, hair ties, loose change) and slipped on her coverup before packing up both their towels before following Callie.

She met Callie coming out of the restroom, leaning against the wall right next to the women's room. Normally she would have just grabbed the wallet and camera and left, but for one afternoon, she wanted to pretend she was a normal girl flirting with a pretty lady. For that she was willing to sacrifice the chance she just lost, and some of the cash she had on hand. Her brother was working; they would at least eat some of the restaurant's food waste tonight if nothing else. Eating leftover noodles for the fifth night in a row would be worth it if she could have this afternoon with Callie. _Calliope Torres_ according to her newly-issued driver's license. Only a year younger than Arizona's sixteen, and utterly captivating.

"I realized when you left that I'm hungry. How about we go for that papa rellena you said was almost as good as your abuela's?" she asked.

Callie looked shocked for a moment – almost as if she was surprised Arizona had remembered something she'd said several hours ago – and then smiled shyly. "Sure. I could go for something to eat." She took her towel and bag and dug around in her purse for a moment. "I can drive us right over, or it's a nice walk."

"Let's walk," Arizona replied as she slipped her hand into Callie's. "You said it was just a couple blocks from here? Which direction?"

Callie pointed with her free hand, "That way. But let me drop my towel off at my car first."

Arizona swallowed down her apprehension. "Sure, that sounds good to me." She let Callie lead them over to a gorgeous baby blue Thunderbird. "Wow," the word was soft, almost an exhalation, but Callie heard it and grinned even as she reddened.

"It's kind of crazy for me to be driving it. It was my abuelo's. He gave it to me. My father's not into cars and abuelo used to show me how he'd keep it up, every time I visited. Now I do it all."

"It's gorgeous, Callie. Almost as pretty as you," Arizona ran a hand a few inches above the hot metal. "Two seater though? No backseat?" She let a flirtatious lilt enter her voice at the last comment, winking as Callie flushed darker. "But c'mon, my tummy's rumbling."

"Sure," Callie opened up the car and laid her towel carefully over the front seat after shaking it vigorously to get as much sand out as possible, then pulled on her own coverup. "All set." Shyly taking Arizona's hand again as they started walking across the parking lot, Callie let her blush fade before clearing her throat. "Your accent's pretty good, when you asked about the papa rellena. You speak Spanish?"

Arizona shrugged, "A little. I've always had a bit of a knack for languages."

Callie grinned playfully at her companion, "Prove it."

A teasing, wicked grin crossed her face as she stopped and pulled Callie into the alleyway they had just passed, backing her against the stuccoed wall of a building with her body. Callie's breath stopped as Arizona moved close enough that their fronts pressed together, Arizona whispering in her ear, "Si solamente te tocaras el corazón, si solamente pusieras tu boca en mi corazón, tu fina boca, tus dientes, si pusieras tu lengua como una flecha roja, allí donde mi corazón polvoriento golpea."

Callie gasped as soft lips brushed against the skin below her ear. Arizona pulled back, just enough to meet wide brown eyes. She leaned forward, nuzzling the other girl's nose with her own. They shared the same air for a long moment, before she pressed her lips against Callie's. The kiss was soft and sweet and Arizona's smile was brilliant as she pulled back, her hand on Callie's cheek.

"Erin…" Callie murmured, her eyes closed from the kiss. Arizona's face fell slightly as her moniker came out of Callie's mouth, but reapplied her smile before hazy brown eyes met blue.

"Was… was that okay?" she asked softly.

A devilish smile was her answer as Callie gently hauled her back for a second kiss, one hand twisted in fine blond hair.

Several minutes of giggly making out ended when a motorcycle roared by, pulling them out of their little bubble. "Was that your stomach?" Callie teased, resting her free hand over Arizona's midsection. Callie's touch was warm and gentle through her tee shirt, rubbing slight circles as the two girls laughed.

"No, but it could be!" Arizona slid her arms around Callie's shoulders, pulling the taller girl down for one last kiss before she stepped back and led them into the bustling cafetería. Callie took the lead then, guiding Arizona to a seat by the window and then getting into the line for food. She came back ten minutes later, a tray piled high with food in her hands. Arizona stared, "You think we can eat all of this?"

Shrugging, Callie replied, "I think we can try." She passed Arizona a fork and a tall cup of soda. "I should have asked what you wanted to drink; I hope Pepsi is okay."

"It's more than fine. This is too much, Callie!"

"It's food that'll go to waste if you don't eat it," Callie grinned, pushing the tray towards Arizona. "So eat, Erin. Waste not, want not." Laughing, Arizona reached for her drink but knocked it over instead – straight into Callie's lap. "COLD COLD, shit!"

"Oh, god, Callie, I'm so sorry," Arizona jumped up and grabbed a pile of napkins. She mopped up the rest of the soda on the table before it could drip into Callie's lap.

Callie burst out laughing herself. "It's fine, klutz. Just… let me go clean up a little. Be right back."

"Sure, sure, I'll try to clean up a little," Arizona replied, even as her mental warning bell went off – it could be the last time she had unfettered access to Callie's bag. Glancing around as Callie disappeared behind the bathroom door, she saw no one was paying either of them any attention. Slipping on her sneakers quickly, she subtly grabbed Callie's wallet and the camera from the bag – damp with soda, and nonchalantly wandered out the door, her stomach churning in agony. As soon as she was out of sight of the building, she started to run back to her bike at the beach.

She was almost to the beach's parking lot by the time Callie came out of the bathroom to an empty table and a significantly lighter beach bag.

X-X-X-X

Arizona carefully slipped through the back door of the house she and Tim were squatting in. The weight of her bag, with Callie's wallet and camera in it, pulled at her. The prospect of eating for a few weeks and adding to their meager cash savings bolstered her mood only a little. Practically speaking she had done what she needed to do to survive, but the idea of never seeing Callie again tore at her heart.

As she trudged down the hall, she heard a very familiar laugh from the room she and Tim had appropriated as their base camp. She hurried forwards, and burst in to find a dark-haired boy talking with Tim, an overstuffed duffel bag on the floor by his feet.

"Nick! You made it!" she squealed, all thoughts of Callie pushed aside at seeing their best friend and surrogate brother in the flesh again. She threw herself into his arms and laughed.

"Good day at the beach," Tim asked later, after they'd all settled in for the night.

"Not bad," she shrugged, pulling her bag into her lap. "One wallet, stuffed full of cash and a couple of daddy's credit cards with the PIN numbers written down. And this," she handed Callie's camera over to Nick. "Happy belated birthday, brother."

Nick stared at the camera in his hands, an even better model than the one his grandmother had given him before she died, and that his father had smashed in a rage six weeks later. His eyes watered and he rubbed at them, grinning widely at Arizona. "Thanks, Phoenix," he murmured, breathing heavily. In that moment he knew leaving his birth relatives to meet up with his family was the right decision, one he would never regret.

Arizona saw the realization in Nick's eyes and leaned forward to kiss his cheek, "Welcome home, brother." They were finally all together, and nothing would keep them from their dreams.

**15 years later…**

The new apartment was easily the best one they'd lived in. They had a lease, bought appliances, decorated, and everything. Tim, through contacts, found a job as an auto mechanic before they even moved to the city. Nick was hired as a mason soon after they arrived. Arizona picked up shifts at a restaurant for the two months between them settling in and her intern year starting. They'd known and planned for Arizona's residency, scrimped and saved since they were teens to get her through college, med school, and the five long hard years ahead of her. The apartment was small for three people, by most standards. There were two very modest bedrooms, a shared bath, a combined living & dining room, and a kitchen. The smaller bedroom was Arizona's, her bed crammed into one corner and a sturdy bookcase full of medical textbooks fastened securely to the wall. Tim and Nick shared the other, perpetual children with their full-sized bunkbeds and having wrestled over who got the top bunk.

As they sat around their tiny kitchen table eating cereal early on the first day of Arizona's intern year, the conversation bounced between them, a lightness to their mood now that so much of their hard work was finally beginning to visibly pay off as Arizona would now don her white lab coat at the hospital every day.

"Now use your dimples only for good," Tim cautioned. "Charm your teachers, soothe your patients, and terrify your competition." He crossed his arms over a broad chest, nodding sagely as he leaned back slightly and surveyed the table looking for more to eat.

"I can't take you seriously when you say shit like that," Nick laughed.

"What? The dimples have power!" Tim insisted, swiping at his brother. "They have to be used wisely!"

"Oh, whatever, Captain America. You can't pass yourself off as wholesome to me," said Nick to Tim, laughing at his friend's appearance of earnestness. "I know you too well."

Arizona laughed, "How times have changed. To think the guy who used to lift wallets has never overcharged a customer. Well, unless they deserved it."

"That's not _overcharging_. There's a very noticeable sign saying that if you're a jackass I have a special service fee to put up with your bullshit," Tim protested, his face split by a wide, easy grin. "I fix cars, I'm not a servant or anyone's punching bag."

"I got you that sign as a joke. It wasn't a suggestion on how to alter your business model," Arizona scolded him, grin firmly in place. "I can't believe your boss let you put it up."

"Let me? He bought three more to post around the shop. Some guy screamed at him for ten minutes like a week before I started, cuz he didn't have some part right in the back _and_ Dave had like three jobs ahead of the ass's to get done first. Dude drove a fucking Gremlin. Who the hell has parts for one of those lying around?" Tim smirked. "You've changed the face of car repair in the city, sis."

Arizona shook her head, catching a glance of the microwave's clock as she did. "Anything to avoid getting stomped all over by assholes, I guess. Shit, I should get ready."

Nick checked the time, "You have two hours before you have to be there."

Swallowing down a burst of nerves, Arizona nodded, "But I want to do a walk-through before I start, make sure I've got the layout down, and you gotta drop me off so we should leave pretty soon if you want to be on time."

"I took the morning off so you wouldn't have to worry about that, Phoenix," Nick replied softly. "And you spent all of yesterday walking the halls."

Tim shook his head as he grinned wryly at Nick, "Shoo, go get showered and we'll all get coffee before you go into work. Forty-eight hour shifts. You'll need the caffeine."

Less than half an hour later, Arizona braided her hair neatly and stared at the wall opposite her bed. One of Nick's early photographs from the last six months they were in Miami hung in its frame on the wall. Though a skilled mason, Nick's passion was his photography. The apartment was full of his work, but her favorite was the simple scenic shot he'd taken of a beach at sunset – the beach where she'd met Callie. He had many more technically proficient and artistic shots on display – he'd even been published by a couple of magazines in the last year – but she'd dragged him to the beach right before they'd left Miami and demanded he take a picture. The strip of wide white sand had been practically empty due to the temperatures, but that made the shot even more amazing. And she'd kept the picture for the past fifteen years. Arizona shook her head. It was one girl. One afternoon. The significant thing was that she'd gotten the camera for Nick. Callie was just someone she remembered, less important than her lab partner for freshman year chemistry. She frowned. She couldn't remember who her lab partner had been in freshman year chemistry. But she remembered nearly every moment she'd spent with Calliope Torres. Not that it mattered. She'd likely never see the woman again and if she did Callie would probably be pretty angry with her.

X-X-X-X

Arizona walked into Seattle Grace hospital confidently. She was the lowest of the low on the surgical food chain, but she was still a link. Her first day was due to start in half an hour, and she made her way to meet the rest of her intern class with a poker face. She was attentive as the Chief of Surgery gave his welcoming speech. She was observant as she changed in the locker room, surrounded by her fellow interns – her competition.

As the Chief Resident read off names and sent them to different assignments, Arizona zeroed in on the rest of the interns she hadn't met at the mixer a few days before, trying to match names to faces and to where they'd been assigned. Knowledge was always power.

"Only seven women out of twenty," a woman remarked nearby.

"Yeah, I hear one of them's a model. Seriously, that's gonna help with the respect thing?" said another woman.

"You're Cristina, right?"

"Patton, Monroe," read out the resident behind them.

"Which resident are you assigned to? I got Bailey," Cristina said.

"The Nazi? Me too."

"You got the Nazi? So did I," said a mousey looking man nearby, shutting his locker door. "At least we'll be tortured together, right? I'm George O'Malley. Uh, we met at the mixer. You had on a black dress with a slit up the side, strappy sandals… And now you think I'm gay. No, I'm not gay…"

Arizona snorted loudly, capture all three's attention. "No, you're not gay, O'Malley. You just want to fuck her." He reddened, and tried to stutter out a denial. "Oh, c'mon, that's the nice guy playbook. Notice them, down to a frankly creepy level of detail, give out the harmless friend vibe, and then make your move. Probably when they're crying. Grow up." She dragged her eyes up and down Meredith's form, winking with an exaggerated salaciousness, "Though I can't say you have bad taste."

Cristina burst out laughing as the chief resident called out, "O'Malley, Yang, Grey, Karev, Robbins," and followed Arizona to meet their assigned resident. Meredith, George, and Alex Karev, a surly man who had hit on Arizona at the intern mixer, followed. Arizona had found Karev hilarious, as after she turned him down and he noticed she was checking out a woman's rack, they'd ended up in a corner together drinking and rating their fellow interns' hotness.

X-X-X-X

Arizona appreciated Doctor Bailey's forthright nature, and her five rules. She was going to be the best, and that meant no time for bullshit. But twenty-four hours into her first shift – and she congratulated herself on still being fairly energetic halfway through – she was starting to get offended by the bullshit of Doctor Chang from Orthopedics. The man had twice ignored a page sent on behalf of her patient – a ten year old who'd flipped his bicycle to end up with a badly dislocated shoulder – and she'd spent the past five minutes reassuring his anxious parents before quickly leaving the room to grab her supervisor as she passed.

"Bailey, the Jensens are still waiting for Jeff's shoulder to be reduced and Chang isn't answering his pages," she said after she tracked her resident down.

"Chang's like that. I just paged Torres for you," Bailey grumbled, pointing at an approaching doctor as she stalked off to deal with her own patients.

A whirlwind of energy arrived, wearing resident's scrubs and the ubiquitous lab coat, both pushed up to her elbows, and her eyes focused on the chart in her hands. A riotous mass of dark curls tumbled over the woman's shoulders and Arizona stopped breathing as shocked brown eyes met her own. She'd recognize that face anywhere, even fifteen years later and an entire continent away. She glanced down to see _Calliope Torres, M.D_ embroidered on the woman's lab coat.

"Erin?" came the shocked question.

"Shit," Arizona breathed. The first day of her intern year and already things had gone to hell in a handbasket.

X-X-X-X

A/N: Arizona recites from "Baracole" by Pablo Neruda. According to the bilingual edition I have (ISBN: 0-395-54418-1) it translates as: "If only you would touch my heart, if only you would put your lips to my heart, your delicate mouth, your teeth, if you would place your tongue like a red arrow where my crumbling heart is beating."


End file.
